


Bright Kitchen

by xtinapot



Series: Clothesline [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtinapot/pseuds/xtinapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A morning in Derek's kitchen with his pack, and Stiles has an epiphany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright Kitchen

      “No, dude, get your own coffee,” Stiles says, snatching his cup away from Isaac and spilling only a few drops.

      “I want one now,” Isaac says, head resting on the table. His hands are outstretched, making grabby motions in Stiles direction.

      “He – here,” Scott says. He’s yawning again when he places one of the mugs he’s holding in front of Isaac.

      Isaac’s head perks up. He’s beaming at Scott who’s pulling out a chair and sitting beside Isaac. Scott doesn’t seem to notice, though. Scott drops his head on the table, muttering about evil Alphas and evil full moon run. Isaac pats Scott’s head, smiling fondly.

      Stiles rolls his eyes.

      Stiles takes a sip of his coffee, savoring its bitter taste and warmth. He’s thinking about making breakfast, probably omelets again because Derek’s fridge is magical and seems to lay half a dozen eggs daily, when the thuds and bumps interrupt his thoughts.

      Boyd and Erica appear on the doorway. Boyd is carrying Erica on his back, her head lolling on his shoulder. She’s half-asleep.

      Stiles stands up from his chair and moves to the head of the table. Boyd gives him a nod and kneels in front of the chair vacated by Stiles. Erica grunts, pulling her body up to slump on the chair.

      Erica also succumbs to the inevitable. She crosses her arms on the table and presses her cheek there.

      Boyd goes to the counter, pulling two mugs from the cupboard, and pouring coffee on them. He walks back to the table, sits beside Erica, and puts a mug in front of her.

      Erica mumbles something.

      There are a few minutes of silence. Stiles swears he can hear the birds chirping outside the kitchen window where the morning light is streaming through.

      “What’s Derek’s problem, anyway? He made us run eight hours straight last night. And he’s in a bad mood.” Erica says, voice muffled. She yawns. “He actually punched a tree in half when I suggested a break.”

      “It’s because he’s an asshole Alpha. Alphasshole,” Scott says.

      Stiles snorts, “Go back to sleep, and then think of a better one.”

      “But he was really strange last night. Like, he chased us around until he’s so tired, he’s the first one to collapse,” Isaac says.

      Stiles looks at Boyd, expecting him to add something to the class. But Boyd is just staring intently at Stiles. Stiles stares back.

      “What?” Stiles asks.

      “Nothing,” Boyd says, finally looking away. He starts squinting at the microwave, like he’s contemplating challenging it to a game of chess. Boyd is a mean chess player.

      “Sucks to be all of you,” Stiles says. “I had a great time last night. Danny brought me and Lydia to that new club, and it’s awesome.”

      Stiles touches his right cheek, wincing a bit at the contact. “Well, until someone accidentally elbowed me in the face and I passed out, so Danny dropped me here instead of my house because I smell like the bartender used my clothes as his towel.”

      “You just smell like Derek, though,” Isaac says.

      Stiles stopped getting creeped out by the werewolves’ sensitive noses a long time ago. “It’s because I raided his closet while all of you were gone.”

      When Isaac frowns at him, Stiles crinkles his nose. “What? Like he doesn’t just enter my bedroom as if his territory extends there. And he doesn’t even have a copy of my house key. I have his, so that’s an invitation to all parts of the house.”

      “God, my body hurts. My head hurts. Shut up, both of you,” Erica says. “Where do you even get your energy to bicker with Stiles, Isaac?”

      Stiles looks at Scott, and Isaac catches him. He flushes, and quickly says, “Why don’t you ask Boyd? He’s acting like we just jogged around the forest last night.”

      Erica pulls an arm out under her head to pat Boyd’s shoulder. “That’s because Boyd is my superman. Imagine the sex.”

      Stiles doesn’t have to see Erica’s face to know that she’s smirking. He makes a face. Isaac groans, head thumping on the table. He looks sideways, and realizes his face is just inches away from Scott. Scott’s eyes are probably closed, because Isaac keeps on staring at Scott like he’s the most fascinating creature in the world.

      Oh, god, don’t let anyone see me making that expression at someone, Stiles thinks.

      Stiles lifts his cup and blows the smoke away, watching its curl disappear.

      Another set of thuds echoes to the kitchen. Stiles looks at the doorway, expecting Derek this time.

      What Stiles doesn’t expect is the shirt Derek is wearing. Stiles chokes on his coffee.

      (It’s a testament in how often this happens to Stiles that no one even looks at what made Stiles suffocate himself.)

      “Why?” Stiles asks, almost whining.

      Derek has the audacity to act as if he doesn’t know what Stiles is talking about. “What?”

      Erica looks up from her arms and _wails._

      “My eyes, the fuck,” Erica says, quickly burying her head back to her arms. “Are you angry at something, Derek? Just tell us.”

      Derek walks to the fridge, opening it and getting a carton of eggs out. He opens the cupboard and pulls out a bowl.

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Derek says as he starts making breakfast, his back to all of them.

      “Dude, I bought that shirt as a joke last month. Why are you wearing it now? Why are you even wearing it?”

      Erica snorts. Isaac is speechless. Stiles reaches across the table to lift Isaac’s chin up and close his mouth.

      Isaac gives Stiles a ‘what the hell’ look, head cocking in Derek’s direction. Stiles shrugs, making wild gestures with his hands to indicate his own bafflement.

      Derek turns around to throw the eggshells in the trash near Stiles. “It’s a nice shirt,” Derek says. He glances down at Stiles, smiling.

      It’s the kind of smile that probably appeared on Derek Hale’s face before the Hale fire happened. It’s open and mischievous.

      And that’s how Stiles finally realizes he has a huge crush on Derek Hale.

      Later though, much later, Stiles will realize he’s actually in love with Derek Hale while he watches as Derek attempts to destroy the Hale house single-handedly under the moonless sky.

      For now, Stiles’ eyes are doing its best to etch Derek’s smile, along with the bright kitchen and the orange shirt he’s wearing, into his brain.

      “Does it actually say ‘I’m the Alpha! Raawr’? in comic sans?” Isaac asks.

      Derek goes back to whisking the eggs in the bowl. Stiles stares at the kitchen window, willing his heart to please, please calm down. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, [SisterMu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterMu/pseuds/SisterMu), for beta-ing. I'm glad we met.  
> This story happened before The Sheriff's Laundry. But, obviously, this can be read without reading the first part.


End file.
